'It is not so much _that_'--with hesitation. 'Of course I know he will _say_ nothing, but he will _think_ the more; and'----
'And he will look so annoyed,' goes on Cissy, torturing herself with immense success. 'I would not for anything it had occurred. I do think I am the unluckiest girl on earth.'
'Are you in love with him?' suddenly asks the major sharply.
'In love with him? What an absurd question! Of course I am not,' says Cissy angrily, while blushing in the most furious and uncalled-for manner. 'What _can_ have put such a ridiculous idea into your head?'
'Well' (sulkily), 'you are so afraid of vexing him, for one thing.'
'Not a bit more afraid of him than I would be of you or any other man, under the circumstances,' declares Cissy with exemplary candour. 'But it is not a pleasant thing at any time to injure a favourite hunter; and the mare, for some reason or other, is a special darling with Captain Halkett. Indeed, it was only yesterday I heard him saying he valued her more than any animal he had ever had.'
'Given him by one of the fair sex, most likely,' says the major with vicious intent.
'Very probably,' returns Cissy quietly, who carries a very game little heart beneath her pretty Irish skin, and would have died rather than betray any undue emotion. Nevertheless, it must be confessed her colour faintly wavers and fades away a little, only to return with tenfold brilliance as she sees Captain Halkett pass the stable window.
'Here he is!' she cries hurriedly. 'Now, what _shall_ I do?'
'Nothing, if my advice is worth anything,' says the major sententiously.
Captain Halkett coming slowly up the yard, cigar in mouth as usual, and hands thrust deep in the pockets of his shooting-coat, sees Cissy, Major Blake--and the groom on his knees beside the mare. He takes in the whole situation at a glance. Throwing away his cigar, he turns to Cissy, and says pleasantly: 'Good-morning, Miss Mordaunt. Had a good day, I hope?'
'Yes; thanks--very--that is, _no_, not at all,' says Cissy nervously. 'I am afraid you will be horribly angry. But the fact is, as Major Blake and I were coming quietly home--cantering through the Park fields, at the last gap some sharp stone caught the Baby's leg, and has hurt her, as you see. I--I am so _very_ sorry about it,' concludes Miss Mordaunt, genuinely vexed for the mishap.